The Bloody Love Doctor
by FlyingAboveTheClouds
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy knows love when he sees it. He likes to play "love doctor", getting couples together and initiating that spark of love. So when Britain ends up staying over at America's house, France enlists the help of Canada to get them to admit their undying love for each other, but they didn't expect how insane the night would become. USUK, rated T for cursing.
1. Airplanes, Zombies, and the French

**A/N: Hello, everyone! This is my first Hetalia fanfic and my first attempt at a romance fic. The pairing, you ask? USUK! Although there will be a liiiittle bit of Franada later on. I hope it's not too much of a fail. ;) **

**Rated T for swearing. Cover your ears, kiddies! **

_5:12 P.M._

Nations began exiting the room as the world conference, being held in New York City, which had run late due to the amount of arguing, goofing-off, and interruptions from Prussia (who didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that he was no longer a country and didn't really have a reason to be there), came to a close. A few nations lingered behind, chatting or trying to make side deals, much to Germany's chagrin. No one, however, noticed the island nation in the corner, furiously making calls, his unusually large eyebrows furrowed in frustration. No one until…

"HEY, IGGY! Dude, what's going on?" Alfred "America" F. Jones approached Britain, a toothy grin plastered on his face, but the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland was is no mood for his former colony's cheerfulness.

"Not now, you git! Can't you see that I'm busy!" England sighed, finally feeling defeated, and placed his cell phone back in his pocket. America ignored the irritation in his voice and persisted.

"Doing what?"

"Well, if you really must know," Britain began, his voice edged with sarcasm, "My flight home was canceled because there was some potential 'terrorism threat' reported, and officials, if you can call them that, are worried. So, because you can't put suicide bombers and homicidal nutters in their place, I'm stranded here with no place to stay!"

"Hey, I'm just concerned for my citizen's safety! I don't want a repeat of 9/11!" America retorted.

"Well I can understand that, but are the full-body scans really necessary?"

America smiled sheepishly, "Okay, I admit it, those are a little excessive, but it wasn't my idea! So, anyway, you don't have a place to stay?" America could see the dilemma. It was far too late to get a reservation for one of the city's nice, or even semi-decent, hotels, and the dignified Brit most likely wouldn't particularly enjoy staying in a cheap motel where some 50 year-old guy was probably getting busy with a prostitute in the next room over. "Want to stay at my place?"

Britain felt a little heat rise to his cheeks at hearing this offer. "Uh, y-yes. That would be nice. Thank you, America." He didn't exactly have many options.

America laughed, "OKAY! Let's go! Mattie's waiting with the car."

"Who?"

"My brother…you know, Canada?"

"Ah, yes, I remember now."

Neither the European nor the North American country noticed the smiling Frenchman watching them as they walked through the door.

_Well done, Francis, _he thought gleefully to himself, _Now I just need to get to L'Amerique's house!_

_5:36 P.M._

After a little while of wandering around the parking garage searching for the car that America and Canada shared, only for America to get a text from Canada saying that he was waiting down by the street ("How the bloody hell did you not notice him!"), America and Britain finally got in the black Subaru Forester (which America didn't like very much, mostly because Canada had picked it out).

Canada turned his head, a little surprised to see Britain get in the car.

"Hi, England," he said quietly. Then again, Canada usually said everything quietly.

"Hello, Canada," Britain replied, buckling his seat belt.

"Iggy's staying at our house tonight 'cause his flight got canceled," America said, "Tony's going to be so pumped!"

Britain sighed. He had forgotten about America's alien friend.

_6:01 P.M. _

After an exhausting drive through the congested New York traffic, the three countries arrived at the house of the two North American nations. Upon walking through the front door and into the living room, they were greeted by the sight of Tony the alien sitting on the couch, playing a strange survival-horror video game that America had borrowed from Japan.

"C'mon, Iggy, I'll show you where your room is, you can put you jacket and crap there!" America began climbing the staircase opposite the front door. England nervously followed, making sure to walk widely around the couch where Tony sat. As he passed the couch he heard "Fucking limey!" from the gray alien.

"Um, I guess I'll get dinner started," Canada announced as they disappeared at the top of the stairs.

"Okay!" America called back down.

Canada sighed. Why didn't anyone ever notice him? Even his own brother would hardly acknowledge him when he talked. He walked off in the direction of the kitchen. He tried to think of what he could make for dinner. Burgers, although they were America's favorite food, would take too long to make and would probably disgust Britain anyway. America had recently taken a liking in Japanese food, but they probably didn't the ingredients for that, although he thought he remembered seeing some rice somewhere in one of the cabinets.

As he dug through the cabinets, moving various things out of the way, he heard a soft electronic chime. Canada jumped, slightly startled, and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. It was a simple, gray flip phone (America constantly laughed at it, amused at the fact that Canada didn't have a smart phone). Canada was surprised to find that he had received a text. No one texted him but Alfred, and he was right upstairs. Canada flipped open the phone. The name on the screen read "_Francis Bonnefoy_".

France? Why would France text him?

_Bonjour, Matthieu ! How are L'Amerique and Angleterre ?_

L'Amerique and Angleterre ? America and England ? How could France possibly know about that ? Canada, a little creeped out, quickly texted back.

_They're fine. How do you know that England is here ?_

Canada set the phone down on the counter top, nervously awaiting Frances reply as he continued to sort through ingredients and glancing at the phone every few seconds. A minute or two later the electrnic chime went off again. He quickly picked up the phone.

_I heard them chatting at the conference. Would you mind opening the back door ?_

The back door ? Canada exited the kitchen and headed out towards the hall where the back door was. He nervously turned the doorknob and pulled it open. There didn't appear to be anyone or anything outside though. It was mid-November so it was already dark out. He scanned the ground, wondering if he had missed something.

"Matthieu!"

Canada yelped, jumping about a foot into the air.

"Shush! I do not want L'Amerique and Angleterre to know that I am here!" France suddenly jumped out from behind a bush and walked up the steps to the porch where Canada stood.

"Fr-France! What are y-you d-doing here?" Canada whispered in a manner that France couldn't help but notice sounded awfully nervous.

"Well, you see, I have a plan to-"

France stopped mid-sentence. Canada heard voices behind them. It sounded as if America and Britain were descending that stairs.

"-really shouldn't allow Prussia to be at the meetings. He's not even an actual country anymore and anything he says everyone else just dismisses. All he does is interrupt people, make rude comments, and cause arguments."

"Yeah, Germany probably just puts up with it 'cause he's his brother, but you know-"

Canada turned to tell France to hide, only to realize that the Frenchman had already dived into a bush.

"Hey, Canada, what'cha doin' on the porch?"

Canada jumped in surprise. "Oh, uh, nothing. I was, uh, just l-looking for Orion. Heh, see, there it is!" He laughed nervously.

"Okaaaaay," laughed America, "C'mon, Iggy, I want to show you this new video game Japan gave me!"

"America, you bloody git! I don't want to see some idiotic game!" Britain protested, as America dragged him down the hall.

France reappeared next to Canada, chuckling slightly at the sound of America and Britain arguing in the living room.

"Okay, France," Canada said, "Tell me what you're up to."

_7:53 P.M. _

After dinner, Britain and America resumed their arguing in the living room. America had somehow convinced Britain to play Left 4 Dead 2 with him, and, well, Britain kinda sucked at it.

It wasn't hateful arguing though. It was more like bickering. A lover's quarrel as France would put it. Throughout the arguing, zombie shooting, and listening to the profanities being spewed out by the characters on-screen, Britain couldn't stop himself from smiling. He didn't want to admit it, but he was rather enjoying his time with the idiot sitting next to him on the couch.

A loud yawn escaped Britain's mouth.

"Dude, you're tired, already? You're getting' old, dude."

"Oh, shut it, you wanker!" Britain snapped, "At least I wasn't yawning through the entire conference."

"Hey, that was a pretty boring-ass conference. There were probably only ten minutes out of that entire conference where we actually discussed world issues."

"What about Germany's introduction? He gave overviews of the issues and allowed us a little input before went into detail about them."

"Yeah, but no one ever actually listens to that. I was playing solitaire on my phone!"

**A/N: Okay, so that's the end of the first chapter. Sorry if it's too OOC! Next chapter, SHIT WILL GET CRAZY! It's too bad that Britain's tired, because he is NOT getting any sleep tonight! Poor Iggy. He must hate New York City. I don't really like the insane traffic in NYC and how you can't walk down the street without walking into people. Although really weird, funny stuff happens in New York. For example, once, I was walking to a café for breakfast and I heard this random dude shouting "AW SHIT! AW SHIT! PEOPLE MAKIN' LOVE IN THE MORNING!" To this day I have still think about that and laugh. Although that kind of stuff is probably normal to people who live in New York. I live in Connecticut. Nothing ever happens in Connecticut :( Well, until next time. See ya! **


	2. Aliens, Red Bull, and Salesmen

**Hello everyone! I have returned with another chapter. Hope you enjoy. Please review ;) **

_8:07 P.M._

Canada had to admit it; he felt a little bit guilty. Was this right? It wasn't like it would physically harm him or anything, and it was in the name of love, right? Although, Canada was having a hard time understanding what this had to do with love.

Canada nudged open the door to America's office, poking his head in. "U-um, h-hey, Tony?"

The gray alien was sitting at America's desk, playing with some sort of gaming device. The alien made no attempt to acknowledge Canada's presence.

"Do you think you could do me a favor?"

The alien set down the gaming device, but did not look up.

"It's about England," Canada explained, hopeful that this would get the alien's attention.

Finally, Tony looked up.

_8:18 P.M._

"Well, I gotta take a piss."

"Well, I suggest using the bathroom."

"That's what I was just about to do, asshole."

Britain doubled over in laughter as America stood up, walking out of the room. He was a little surprised at his amusement. Normally he would have made some sort of rude retort towards the American.

He immediately ceased his laughter upon looking up, however, as Tony had suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Oh, h-hello there, Tony."

"…Fucking limey."

Britain said nothing, hoping that the alien had approached him just to dish out that little insult.

"Fucking limey," Tony repeated.

"Uh, is there something that you want?" Britain asked nervously.

"…"

"…"

"I'll kill you, fucking limey," the alien hissed.

Britain, now slightly terrified, stared at Tony. He wasn't serious, right? Britain knew that the alien strongly disliked him, but Tony was never aggressive towards humans, at least not in terms of physical harm.

Britain was relieved to see America reenter the room. America smiled at seeing what looked to him like his alien friend and the European country having a friendly conversation.

"Aww, I knew Tony would be totally pumped about seeing you!"

Britain forced a laugh. "Uh, right, yeah."

America plopped back down on the couch next to Britain. Tony walked towards the door, giving Britain one last glare before leaving.

"So, Iggy-"

"Stop calling me that."

"-I was thinking we could watch Saturday Night Live later and then after that we can-"

"I refuse to watch such rubbish!"

"Oh, c'mon! Have you ever even watched it!"

The two quarreled about TV shows for a while before their argument was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

America stood up and walked towards the window next to the door, pulling back the curtains. A curious look crossed his face.

"Who is it?" Britain asked.

"I'm pretty sure it's Italy wearing a blonde wig and a suit." America replied.

"Are you sure it's Italy?"

"Yeah, I can see his hear curl poking out from under the wig."

America opened the door. "Italy, what-"

Italy looked a little nervous at hearing this. "Er, who's Italy? I don't know anyone named Italy. I am a salesperson!"

This confirmed for both Britain and America that the person standing before them was, in fact, Italy. Any normal human would assume that "Italy" was in reference to the country.

"A salesperson? At 8:30 at night?" Britain questioned.

"Yes! A salesperson!" Italy quipped.

"Well, whatever you're selling, I'm not interested."

Italy quickly stuck his foot in between the door before America could shut it. "Wait- OW, MY FOOT!"

"What?"

"CAN I INTEREST YOU IN BUYING SOME CONDOMS!"

America stared at him for a few seconds before slamming the door shut.

Britain laughed, "Well, that certainly was odd."

America laughed nervously, "Yeah. What was up with him? He must've made a drunk bet with Prussia or something."

_8:46 P.M._

"So what are we going to try next?" asked Canada.

France sighed, "Well, Mathieu, Italy said zhat the salesperson idea didn't work. What happened with Tony?"

"He said he would threaten England periodically to scare him. Why are we doing that again? "

"Because everyone knows zhat Tony never misbehaves in front of L'Amerique, so Angleterre will want to stay with him so zhat Tony doesn't try to kill him…do you have any alcoholic beverages?"

"Well, there's just a beer in the fridge and that's it. We have a lot of Red Bull, though."

"Zhat will do. Angleterre can't handle caffeine. It's sort of like how he can't handle alcohol."

_8:53 P.M._

France was crouched just under the window, a little disappointed that nothing seemed to be brewing between the two countries in the living room. He took a chance and peeked into the window.

America and Britain were both sitting on the couch. America, holding a can of Red Bull, seemed to be trying to coax Britain into taking a swig. Britain didn't seem to want to.

After a few minutes, Tony suddenly appeared in the room. Britain seemed extremely uncomfortable while America continued to talk and laugh. America took another sip of the Red Bull, before getting up to, presumably, get another Red Bull. Britain glanced at the gray alien, still watching him from across the room, and followed America out of the room.

_Well at least Tony will be there to make sure they stay in the same room_, France thought.

_9:17 P.M._

"AAAAAHHHHHH! AMERICAAAA!"

America dashed into the room. "What? What is it…oh."

"GET THIS BLOODY ALIEN OFF ME!"

America ran over to assist his friend, who was now on the floor being mauled by the gray alien. Luckily, Tony was small in stature and not very strong, so the punching and kicking didn't hurt _too_ much. However, the alien had some exceptionally sharp finger nails.

"Tony! Stop! Get off Iggy!" America tugged him off of Britain. "What's gotten into you?"

"THAT THING IS INSANE!" Britain gasped.

America placed the alien down and reached out his hand to help the other nation. Britain took his hand and America pulled him to his feet. There were several scratches on his face. One of these was an open cut, a little blood seeping out of it.

America pulled Britain into the kitchen. He got a paper towel, running a little water on it before dabbing the blood off of the England's face.

"I'm sorry, Iggy. I didn't think Tony would do that. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Yeah, whatever," Britain replied, blushing a little as he realized the American was still clutching his hand.

"I can't believe-"

Britain stopped midsentence when the doorbell rang, once again.

America sighed, "What the hell? It better not be another 'salesperson'."

Britain followed America to the front door (afraid that Tony might want a round two). America pulled open the door to discover Prussia, standing on the front porch. He was holding a bottle of tequila.

"Can I come in?"

America slammed the door in his face. Immediately following this, the telephone rang. America quickly ran over to the phone and picked it up.

"Hello?" he said, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"NO ONE SLAMS THE DOOR IN THE FACE OF THE AWESOME PRUSSIA!"

America slammed phone down on the receiver. Turning back to Britain he said, "What the hell is it with everyone? Are they trying to piss me off. If another person-"

The phone rang again.

"I'm not answering that."

After six rings, the phone want to voicemail ("The hero's not here right now, leave a message and Mattie will probably call you back later!...maybe" *beep*). A few more seconds later, the phone started ringing again. America, infuriated, grabbed the phone.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT!"

"Er, America?"

America felt a little heat rise to face. Whoops.

"Oh…Germany?"

"Yes, uh, you forgot your iPod at the meeting. Is there something wrong?"

"Uh, no. Prussia just showed up at my door with a bottle of Tequila."

"Mein gott, that dumkopf. I'm going to have Italy drop it off, alright?"

"Um, okay. Thanks."

America set the phone back down on the receiver. Hopefully Italy wouldn't be dropping off condoms along with the iPod.

**Okay, so that was Chapter 2. I know, it probably wasn't that good. The chapter will be better, hopefully. Sorry it took so long. I've been started my X-Files marathon. So far I'm on episode 11 so I only have about 190 episodes to go. Whoo!**


	3. Netflix, Wine, and Fifty Shades of Grey

**Helloooooooo, everyone! I have returned for another chapter. I reread that last two chapters I wrote and realized that there were a lot of typos. And for that I apologize. To be honest I really don't like proof reading/editing/revising. I'm really good at it when it's someone else's writing but for some reason I just don't like reading something that _I _wrote. It's sort of like how I hate seeing pictures/videos with me in them. I also really hate hearing recordings of my voice. I don't know why. But enough with that; ON WITH THE STORY! ~**

_9:35 P.M._

After the awkward phone conversation with Germany, America and Britain had decided to relax in the living room while they waited for Italy to arrive. They made idle conversation as America browsed Netflix. Britain noticed that America's Instant Q was filled with anime, odd looking documentaries, and the occasional Syfy show.

"So is Italy staying with Germany or something?" Britain asked.

"Kinda," America replied, "They're staying in the same hotel. I think a few other countries are staying there too. Most of the countries decided to stay at hotels. I think you were the only one who was planning on immediately flying home."

Britain frowned, thinking he might have offended America. "It's not that I wanted to- I wasn't trying to leave as soon as possible, I just – "

America waved his hand, "I know, I know. It's after a world conference and you just want to go home; I get it. And I know you don't think to highly of New York. It _does_ get pretty crazy."

Britain chuckled, "Especially Times Square. Never before have I seen so many people dressed as stripper cowboys."

_9:37 P.M._

It took a little while, but Canada was finally able to find where France was hiding up against the side of the house.

"Ah, Mathieu!" the Frenchman exclaimed, "How did it go with Tony?"

"Um, Tony kinda tried to... kill England."

France raised an eyebrow, "What 'appened?"

"Well, Tony just sort of jumped on England and started scratching him and punching him, and then England screamed America's name –"

"Oh, did he?

" – and then America came running into the room and yanked Tony off of him. Then America apologized to England."

France looked disappointed. "And nothing 'appened after that?"

"Well, they went into the kitchen, but I didn't see what happened after that."

"Okay. Well zere is still plenty of time left. Italy should be arriving soon. L'Amerique forgot his iPod at ze meeting so Italy is dropping it off. I told him to bring some wine."

Canada cocked his head to the side, slightly confused. "But how would you know that?"

"I took L'Amerique's iPod when he wasn't looking and put it near Germany so that he would find it. I also told Italy to offer to drop it off for him and to bring wine, because a date is not a date without wine."

"Wow, you really planned it out then." Canada said. Then a thought popped into his head. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. England didn't find out about his flight being canceled until after the meeting ended."

France's chest swelled with pride, "Well, zat's because I made sure his flight would be cancelled."

"But how" Canada asked.

"I might have tipped off the people at the terrorist hotline that there was going to be an attack."

"You gave a fake tip about a terrorism threat! That's illegal! And think of all the people who were going on the plane that you screwed over!"

"Well, what's done is done. Now, c'mon let's go see what L'Amerique and Angleterre are doing."

_10:17 P.M._

Luckily, Italy was able to successfully deliver America's iPod without much incident. America and Britain questioned why Italy had also brought a bottle of wine but didn't bother to put up much protest when he left the bottle on the table. Italy tried to say something about lighting some candles, but America quickly pushed him out the door before he could complete his sentence.

America hastily shut the door, sighing with relief. Hopefully that would be the last bizarre episode of the night. He pulled out his iPod, pressing down on the power button.

"I can't believe I didn't realize that I had forgotten this. I always play games and stuff on it but I guess I just forgot since it's been so hectic." America walked across the room and hooked the iPod up to a speaker. "What kind of music do you like?"

"I don't really have a preference," Britain said, sitting himself back down on the couch, "What kind of music do _you_ listen to anyway?"

America shrugged, "Oh, you know, alternative rock and stuff. I'm not really into pop music. There are _some_ good pop songs, but if I have to hear one more goddamn Ke$ha song I'll lose it." America scrolled through various playlists before selecting a song.

The sound of guitars and the occasional drum beat played for about fifteen seconds before a voice started to sing.

_You could have knocked me out with a feather.  
I know you've heard this all before, but we're just Hell's neighbors.  
Why, why, why won't the world revolve around me?  
_

Britain thought of America upon hearing the previous lyric.

_Build my dreams, trees grow all over the streets._

But I don't know much about classic cars,  
But I've got a lot of friends stuck on classic coke.  
Down, set, one, hut, hut, hike,  
Media Blitz

_Let's hear it for America's Suitehearts!  
But I must confess,  
I'm in love with my own sins._

Britain started laughing, "You idiot!"

"What?" America asked, a smile on his face. "It's _America's Suitehearts_ by Fall Out Boy."

"You _would_ have this song on your iPod. Although considering some of the other lyrics this song _does_ sort of suit you."

"Fine, fine." America said. He got up and selected a different song before sitting down in an arm chair. "This song reminds me of you."

"Oh, really? How so?" Britain asked, a little embarrassed. Immediately after this he heard the lyrics:

_Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine,  
Make us it, make us hip, make us scene_

His face turned bright red. Wet dream?

"Because the name of the song is _London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines." _America responded, putting an emphasis on the word "London".

Britain felt even more embarrassed, "Idiot."

_10:22 P.M._

"Hey, France. America and England are listening to music."

France looked up from his phone. "Music? What kind of music?"

"Um, Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco."

"What ze hell is – never mind. Do you know if they started drinking that wine yet?"

"No, they didn't. Who are you texting?"

"Oh, I'm not texting; I'm making a fake horoscope to send to L'Amerique. Also…" he pulled a book out of his bag and handed it over to Canada, "Put this somewhere in plain sight."

Canada looked down at the cover of the book.

_Fifty Shades of Grey_?

_10:32 P.M._

"C'mon Iggy, have some wine!" the American chimed, sipping some himself.

America had finally opened up the bottle of whine that Italy had, for whatever reason, left on the table. The Brit did not seem as excited about the prospect of drinking.

"I said no, America." Britain said, slightly irritated at his insistence. He resumed his reading, but America would not relent.

"Why not?"

Britain put the book down in his lap.

"Because I- HMM!" The European country almost choked as America pressed the glass of wine to his lips.

"How about now?" America asked, pulling the glass away. He smirked at seeing the Brit's face flushed with embarrassment.

"U-um, s-sure," Britain replied quietly.

America stood up and exited the room to get another glass for Britain. Meanwhile, Britain's eyes wondered about the coffee table. Spotting a book, he picked it up.

"Fifty Shades of Grey?"

**Okay, that's it for now! Sorry it's a little shorter than the other two chapters. I'll update soon. Also, obviously I don't own Netflix, Syfy, or iPods and it says it in the dialogue but just to be clear the first songs is America's Suitehearts by Fall Out Boy and the other song is London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines by Panic! At the Disco. **


	4. Drunks, Franada, and Hugs

**HEEEEY EVERYONE! ~ I have returned with another chapter. I'm going to try to make this chapter at least a little bit longer than the last. This chapter will contain some Franada (if you squint), so….yeah. Reviews are greatly appreciated. ;) **

_10:44 P.M._

It wasn't long after Britain had started drinking the wine that he began getting just a tad tipsy.

"Hehehe, catch me, Alfie!" Britain giggled **(A/N: MAN GIGGLE!) **as he stumbled over his feet, falling flat on the floor. He seemed rather unnerved by his crash landing, however. He immediately jumped back up to his feet. "Alfie!" *hiccup* "You forgot to catch me, silly- whoops!" He tripped and fell back down, landing on his back.

America sighed, now regretting convincing Britain to have a drink. He hauled the glassy-eyed Brit over his shoulder and headed off towards the dining room.

"Hey, Canada! How do make someone sober really quickly?" America asked, dragging Britain along with him.

Canada was sitting at the dining room table, reading a book. He looked up, "Um, well, drink a lot of water, I guess."

"Okay, well," and with that, the phone rang for the third time that night. America sighed.

"I'll go get that." America pulled out a chair and pushed England onto it before exiting the room to answer the phone.

Canada stared at the inebriated Brit. He was giggling manically without reason and his eyes seemed unfocused. His drastic change in character from his normal self made Canada a little nervous. "Um, alright there, England?"

"HAHAHA! HELLO THERE, CANADA!"

America poked his head back into the room. "Hey, Mattie, I gotta go help Puerto Rico with some stuff. Can you make sure Iggy doesn't accidently kill himself?"

"Um, yeah, I guess I-"

"Okay, bye."

Canada sighed. America just never seemed grateful for anything he did. It was always "Can you do this?" and "Can you do that?" and "Can you answer the door even though I'm closer to it?", and never a "Please" or a "Thank you, Canada, that was very kind of you." Canada snapped out of his trance when he suddenly heard the voice of a certain Frenchman.

"Hey, Mathieu! Ze car is gone, did-" France froze in place when he saw Britain sitting at the table.

"Uh….Angleterre?"

Britain stared at him, a cold expression on his face. There was a long silence.

"HAHAHAHA! HELLOOOOO FRANCEY-PANTS! HOW ARE YOU!"

France was taken aback by Britain's bizarre reaction

"Um, he's drunk," Canada explained.

"Really? He's usually quite violent when he's drunk. It must be because he's in love" France smirked.

Canada laughed weakly, "Heh, yeah."

France gave him a quizzical look, "What's wrong, Mathieu." He pulled out the chair next to Canada and sat down.

Canada just shook his head, "Nothing, it's fine."

France put a hand on Canada's shoulder, making Canada blush a deep shade of red. "Really, Mathieu. What's wrong?"

"U-uh, It's just that- I, um, A-America j-just never, uh –"

"Oh, so zis is about Amerique?"

Canada exhaled. He squeezed his eyes shut and for the first time in a long while he let out his feelings.

**[A/N: Read the following as a long-winded, fast-paced rant] **

"He's always asking me to do stuff and he never says 'please' or 'thank you' and he's never grateful about anything I do to him and he's always impatient and he can never relax and I care about him and I always try to be there for him but he just sort of ignores me and he makes all the good TV shows and no one ever pays attention to anything _I _make but he hardly has to put any effort into it. He's always so good at everything and everyone always pays attention to what _he_ has to say but never what _I _have to say. I just wish I could have more friends. I know Alfred loves me and cares about me because I'm his brother and everything but it's annoying when the only person who cares about you is ignoring you and everyone else is ignoring you even more and I just wish that people would pay attention to my opinions and feelings. I may be easy going most of the time and maybe I like to relax but my opinions are valid and when I want to I can certainly be hard working! And I'm still confused and stressed about the whole Quebec thing I sometimes it's just more than I can handle and I just wish I had someone that I would be able to turn to. I know I have America but he's always really busy and it's too much to bother him and I- I just…."

Canada was breathing heavily as he finished his speech. France frowned. "Oh, Mathieu," France rested his hand on Canada's back, rubbing it in small circles in attempt to comfort the younger nation. "I 'ave a feeling zat L'Amerique is not ze baseline problem 'ere." Canada nodded slowly.

"Mathieu, you need to learn 'ow to speak up. No one can 'ear you if you do not say anything. If there is ever anything you need, just say so. I'm sure Amerique would be more zan willing to help you out when you need it. You have plenty of people who care about you. Zere is Angleterre, Cuba, and myself, of course."

Canada looked up at him. "You?"

"Why of course, mon cher. If you ever need anything –_anything_- I'll help you out." France smiled to himself, getting some nasty thoughts in his head.

Canada smiled, "Hey Francis, I just realized something."

"Oui?"

"Where'd Britain go?"

"Shit."

_11:12 P.M._

France and Canada hastily searched the house, to no avail; the drunken nation seemed to have disappeared. Several rooms showed signs of Britain having been in there, however. The shower curtain in the bathroom was torn off, the sink faucet was running, and there was a smashed flower pot in the toilet. In America's bedroom, the sheets were tossed about, some of the drawers in America's bureau were opened and it looked as though someone had gone through them (France was delighted to find that it seemed Britain had gone through America's underwear drawer), and there were rolls of toilet paper tossed everywhere. Upon entering America's office, Canada discovered Tony duct taped to the wall.

Canada decided that England must have left the house. His suspicions were confirmed when he found that the back door was wide open. Stepping out onto the porch, he called out the European nation's name. No response.

It was going to be a long night.

_11:14 P.M. _

"Germaaaanyyy! I'm back." Italy chirped as he shut the door of their hotel room.

Germany took his eyes off his laptop and looked at Italy, "Mein Gott, what took you so long?"

"I went to the store and bought food! I don't like the food at this hotel. It sucks."

Germany smiled. The cute Italian set the bar very high when it came to food. It was either gourmet or nothing.

*beep*

An electronic chime went off. Germany reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

[1 New Message: Arthur Kirkland]

Britain?

Germany pressed a button to pull up the text.

"HEY HEY HERR FUNNY GERMAN! HOW YA DOIN?11"

"Vhat the hell?" Germany muttered to himself.

"Ve~?"

"Britain just sent me….a very strange text message."

"Eww, he sent you picture of his penis?"

"NEIN! OF COURSE NOT!"

_11: 42 P.M. _

"England!" Canada called for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was starting to get worried. England's thinking was obviously impaired to a large degree by alcohol. It wasn't hard to imagine that he could get seriously hurt.

France and Canada decided to start walking down the street to see if Britain had wondered off the property. As they walked past house after house, they became increasingly hopeless. Most people had their lights turned off and most likely their doors locked, so it was unlikely that Britain had drunkenly broken into someone's house. After coming to a three-way intersection, the two decided to split up. Canada knew that there was a park further up ahead and he decided to check it out. It made sense that Britain might go there since it was a suburban area and he probably wouldn't have much luck hanging out in someone else's yard. Besides, drunk people hang out in parks all the time.

Upon arriving at the park, Canada didn't notice anything immediately suspicious. It was late so there was no one around. Just the usual things; some benches, trees, bushes, trashcans, and a fountain. The sound of crickets could be heard.

"Hey, England!"

No answer…as expected.

Where the hell could England have gone? Canada turned to leave.

"Hahaha…."

Canada whipped around. That laugh seemed to be very close. He looked around. Where would England hide? The bushes seemed too far away to be where the laugh had come from. Was it from- no….England wouldn't hide in a….well…

Canada approached a nearby trashcan. He pushed on the lid of the trashcan, "England?"

"AAAAAHHHH!" The top of the trash can flew off, revealing a drunken Britain covered in trash. "You'll never catch me!" He then attempted to jump out, only for the trash can to tip over on its side with him in it, "Ow."

Britain tried to wiggle out of the trash can without much success. Canada quickly sent a text to France, informing him that he'd found the intoxicated Brit. Now he just had to keep him there until France arrived. It wouldn't be too difficult. Canada, much like his brother, was extremely strong. Not as strong as America, but still pretty strong.

_12:29 P.M._

After somehow managing to drag Britain back to the North America brothers' house, France and Canada dumped him on the couch.

"My God, zat was 'orrible," France panted, "So he 'id in a trashcan?"

"Yeah," Canada replied, "And then he tried to get out and it tipped over."

"HAHAHAHA!"

"Hey, what's zat in his pocket?" France asked, gesturing towards Britain's pants. Canada looked at where he was pointing and sure enough there was a piece of fabric sticking out of his pocket. Canada reached over and tugged on the piece of fabric. He unfolded the material and was surprised to find that he was holding a pair of boxers with an American flag design on them.

"Um, it's America's underwear."

_12:37 P.M._

France got back into his position hiding creepily in the bushes, and Canada made sure to keep a close eye on Britain. Not long after that America arrived home, a tired look on his face.

"Man, I'm exhausted," America said, shutting the front door. He noticed that his brother appeared to be very much in the same condition, "What's up with you?"

Canada gestured towards the giggling Brit.

"Oh, did he give you a hard time? Sorry, bro." America patted Canada on the shoulder.

Canada smiled, feeling at least somewhat appreciated, "It's fine."

America sat down next Britain, slightly amused at his maniacal laughter.

"I thought England gets angry when he's drunk," Canada said.

"Yeah, usually. He always gets made at me and starts ranting about the Revolutionary War." America replied.

_Revolutionary War._

_Revolutionary War._

_Revolutionary War. _

Something snapped inside Britain's head upon hearing the phrase. His look of giddiness was quickly replaced by one of melancholy. America noticed this immediately.

"Britain?"

The look of melancholy was then replaced by a look of confusion.

"What the hell happened?" Britain mumbled.

Canada explained the last hour's events, leaving out the parts about France and America's underwear (to spare the Brit at least some of his dignity). Nevertheless, Britain still seemed rather embarrassed.

_12:57 P.M._

Britain was laying awake in the bed of the guest room, still very embarrassed about his behavior. The worst part for him was that he couldn't even remember it. America had told him that he wasn't mad, but he still couldn't help but feel extremely guilty. He trashed several rooms and, worst of all, he'd torn apart America's bedroom. Then he had dashed out of the house and caused poor Canada a great deal of trouble. He wanted to apologize again. He knew that America had decided to stay up a little longer and finish up some paperwork, so he wouldn't have to wake him up. After a little mental debating, England pushed the covers off of himself and walked down the hall towards America's office. He knocked on the door nervously.

"U-um, America? Is it all right if I come in?"

"Yeah!" America called back.

Britain pushed open the door, revealing a smiling America sitting at his desk.

"Hey, Iggy! What's up, havin' trouble sleeping?"

Britain closed the door behind him, "Well, yes, a bit." He turned to face America, "I-I just wanted to apologize again for…my behavior."

America laughed, "Hey, it's okay dude, you were drunk, and I'm the one who convinced you to drink that wine, right?"

Britain wasn't satisfied with this answer, however, "Yes, but…I trashed your bedroom, and lead Canada on a wild goose chase…and then there's the flower pot."

"It's cool man, really. I don't even know where that flower pot came from."

"Yeah, but look," Britain said, pointing towards the wall. There was still a little bit of duct tape where Tony had been previously. America stood up and walked around the desk to Britain.

"It's alright, really."

Britain went stiff when he felt America's arms wrapped around his waist. After taking a few seconds to get his composure back, he returned the hug.

"T-thanks, America."

He felt a little disappointment rise in his chest when America let go.

"Hey, Iggy, why don't you get some sleep? You like tired."

"Er, okay. I'm going to get a glass of water, I think." Britain said, sounding a little flustered.

"Alright. Good night, Iggy." America replied, a smile on his face. Britain couldn't help but stare at the smile. It was a sincere, sweet smile.

"Goodnight, America."

**Yay! This was my longest chapter so far. So how'd you guys like the Franada? :D Reviews are greatly appreciated. **


	5. Fantasizing and Canada's Not a Burglar

**Hey, hey, peoples! I'm back with another chapter. You know what I just realized by rereading the last chapter? Aside from the usual dumb spelling mistakes it seems that I've forgotten that when it's _after _11:59 at night, you put A.M. instead of P.M. I guess I got so used to writing P.M. that the fact that A.M. exists slipped my mind. Oh well. Maybe I should actually try to reread everything instead of quickly skimming through everything. Anyway, ON WITH THE STORY!**

_1:08 A.M._

After exiting America's office, Britain, a little lost in thought, made his way down to the kitchen. After a little trial and error of searching through cabinets to find a glass, he poured himself some water from the tap. He leaned against the counter, sipping the water and quietly thinking to himself. His mind kept wandering back to his former colony upstairs. He closed his eyes and imagined America, sitting in his office and diligently finishing up paperwork. And then there was that smile. Britain had only seen that smile a few times before from America. Did America reserve that smile especially for him? Britain mentally slapped himself, finding the thought to be slightly childish.

Suddenly, something caught his eye; movement. Turning his head to look out the window, he saw a dark shape outside. He got closer to the window to get a better a view. The shape was gone by then, though. What was that? It was a rather large shape, possibly large enough to be human.

Britain froze when he heard the sound of the front door opening and then closing. Was it a burglar? He quickly scanned the room, looking for something to use as a weapon. He spotted the wine bottle, now empty, sitting on the counter. He silently cursed it, then picked it up. He tiptoed out of the kitchen and down the hall. He heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. Holding the empty wine bottle in front of him, he jumped out from around the corner, only to see Canada. Canada noticed him and jumped in surprise.

"England?"

"Canada?"

"Why do you have that wine bottle?"

"What were you doing outside?"

"Um…I asked you first," Canada said.

"To use it as a weapon, I thought you were a burglar," Britain explained, "Now you go. Why were you outside?"

Canada said nothing for a moment, trying to think of a decent excuse, "Um, I thought I heard something, so I went outside to check, but there wasn't anything there."

"…Alright," Britain said, still skeptical.

Canada looked nervous, "Um, okay. Goodnight, England." He walked past Britain and headed towards the hall.

Britain was now highly suspicious. He recalled that Canada had been out on the back porch for no apparent reason much earlier, and there were several times in which Canada seemed to have disappeared. Britain's intuition told him that something odd was going on. The whole night, in fact, had been odd.

_1:17 A.M._

"Okay, but how am I supposed to do that?" Canada asked.

"I don't know; just do something zat will keep him busy so he doesn't go to sleep!" France exclaimed.

Canada shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, "But I think Britain's starting to figure it out. He caught me walking in the front door, and I had to sneak out the back door because he decided to stay in the living room."

"Well….just start a conversation with him."

"About what?"

"About Amerique, of course!"

"But…I'm not good at talking about things like that."

"And Angleterre's not good at cooking, but he does it anyway."

_1:24 A.M._

Canada felt a bit awkward as he entered the living room. Britain looked a bit surprised at seeing him, but did not say anything. Canada sat down in an arm chair, looking down at the floor. After a minute or two, Britain spoke up.

"Uh, Canada. I want to apologize for earlier…for suspecting that you were up to no good, and for the, um, whole running off drunk thing."

"Oh, it's fine, England," Canada said, dismissing him.

"Yes, but I feel like I've been a nuisance…to you and America," Britain explained, looking down as he twiddled his thumbs.

"Really, England, it's fine."

There was a long silence.

"Hey, do you think it's a little hot in here?" Canada asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, I guess it's a bit warm in here," replied Britain.

"I'll open a window," Canada said. He opened the one that was closest to the couch where Britain sat, as France instructed, to allow the Frenchman to listen in on the conversation. As he opened it, he noticed that France was already sitting under it. He gave a little wave to the Canadian.

Canada sat back down in the arm chair, trying to think of a way to start a conversation. Looking at the Brit, he noticed that England had a rather distressed look about him. He couldn't help but think there was something on the older country's mind. Sure enough, there was.

"Hey, Canada, does…does America ever talk…about me?"

Canada's eyes grew wide; he hadn't expected _that_. He stared at Britain, who had turned a deep shade of red. He was looking off to the side, trying not to make eye contact. Canada thought about the question for a second. America _did _talk about him quite often.

"Well, yeah. Come to think of it, he actually talks about you a lot."

Britain looked slightly surprised, "Oh. What kind of the things….does he s-say?"

Canada combed his memory for something that America had said about Britain. One particular conversation came to mind from the morning of the Fourth of July earlier that year.

"_Morning, Mattie," America greeted his brother as he stepped into the kitchen. _

"_Morning," Canada chimed back, "Happy birthday, Al."_

_America smiled, "Thanks."_

_Canada set down a plate of pancakes in front of him, "Hey, Al. Did England agree to come to your party?"_

_The smile left America's face, "Yeah…but it took, like, two hours of begging him over the phone." _

"_Well, at least he's going, right?"_

"…_Yeah, I guess." America said, shoveling some more pancakes into his mouth._

_Canada was a little concerned for his brother. There was a sad look on his face. _

"_You know," America said, "Sometimes I wish I had chosen France instead of Britain."_

_Canada almost didn't think he'd heard right, "W-what?"_

"_You know when I was a kid, and France and Britain were fighting over me. I wish I had gone with France instead of Britain." _

"_Why?" Canada asked. He was surprised to hear this from his brother. He knew that America still cared deeply for his former mentor, so it was unexpected that he would be this bitter. _

"_Because," America said, "If I had gone with France and revolted against _him_, it wouldn't be Britain that I was hurting." _

"_Oh."_

"_I think maybe Britain's heart is a little more fragile than some people think."_

Canada remembered that conversation very clearly. Something about it stuck with him. It seemed true, what America had said. Maybe Britain's boss and Britain's people thought it was all in the past, but it seemed that maybe Britain as a person still had somewhat of a scar from it.

"U-um, Canada?" Britain looked anxious as he awaited an answer.

"He once said that he wished he had gone with France instead of you."

Noticing the sudden sadness in the European country's eyes, Canada quickly explained. "He said that if it had happened that way, then he would've hurt France and not you."

If Canada and Britain had been closer to the window they would've heard France mutter the word, "Jackass."

Britain didn't say anything. He just thought about what the Canadian had said. Did America really feel that way? But even if he _did _feel that way, it didn't necessarily _mean_ anything. He felt the thought tug at his heart. If America felt the same way…

"Um, he also said that you have a fragile heart…" Canada piped up.

Britain wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but at least Alfred was thinking about him. Alfred with his sweet smile and his cute little cowlick that he had dubbed "Nantucket". Britain tried not to think of him; he was probably just getting his hopes up, but just the idea of it was enough to put butterflies in his stomach. He felt like a giddy schoolgirl obsessing over her crush.

Wait- crush? He didn't have a crush. Nope, no crush. Why would he have a crush? And he especially would not compare himself to a schoolgirl.

Yeah…keep telling yourself that, England.

_1:37 A.M._

"Did you see ze look on Angleterre's face! Zis is great! But now we need to figure out how to get Amerique to go talk to him. How do we do that?" France was rather cheerful after seeing Britain's reaction to what Canada had told him.

Canada attempted to think of a way to get America out of his office. Obviously he couldn't just explicitly ask America to come downstairs; he wouldn't go without a good reason. Canada went through a mental list of things that might work; burgers, his boss, and England, of course. The problem was that it was 1:30 in the morning. The only reason America was awake was because he had slacked off on his paperwork the previous day and had to finish it.

Poor England, on the other hand, seemed rather distressed; he was pacing around the living room, occasionally getting another drink of water.

"You know, if I just tell America that England's emotionally distressed about something he'll probably want to talk to England and maybe England will admit it," Canada suggested.

"No!" France exclaimed, "It needs to happen at the right moment."

"When will it be the right moment?"

"I don't know!...Hey do you know where Tony is?"

"Francis! We can't have Tony attack England, that's just cruel!"

"We won't have him _attack_ Angleterre…just…provoke him."

"…"

"For l'amour?"

"…fine."

**Okay, that's it for now! This chapter was quite a bit shorter than the last…but whatever. It was also generally less weird. By the way, I'm thinking of making a Franada sequel to this. I was thinking the premise could be that America and Britain could turn the tables on France and Canada and try getting **_**them **_**together. Also, I imagined it being at a Christmas party or at a New Year's Eve party. If you remember (which you probably don't) I mentioned something in the first chapter about it being mid-November. So it would take place about a month and a half after this story. Anyway, next chapter will be somewhat more exciting. Adios! (Spain, what are you doing here?) **


	6. Garden Hoses, Shufflin', and Redacted

**Hello everyone and welcome back! Thanks for all of those reviews so far! Sorry it took a little longer to update, I just got surgery on my eye and it hurts like hell :( And I've been working on the planning stages for another Hetalia fanfic. It will take place at the WORLD ACADEMY! And I said I was going to make that Franada fic, so I need to work on that…and there's this other fic I just started that I need to update. *sigh* **

**Anyway, ON WITH THE STORY! ~**

_1:44 A.M._

"Please, Tony! I know it didn't work out very well the last time, but this time you won't even have to go near Britain!" Canada was pleading with the gray alien, who still seemed rather annoyed about being scolded by America and later being duct taped to the wall by his drunken arch-nemesis. The alien, having been kicked out of America's office, had taken residence in Canada's office instead.

"But Britain was drunk before. Now that he's sober, he'd probably be too scared to try to attack you." The alien showed no response.

Canada was starting to feel slightly annoyed. How could he convince the alien to help him? Last time he had agreed because he simply hated Britain, but now it seemed that the alien was too scared. Not scared of Britain, he seemed more scared of getting in trouble with America. Canada thought for a moment. The alien seemed to care much more for the American than any other countries/humans.

"Hey- um, Tony, England said that he's going to try to admit his undying love to America."

The alien whipped around in the chair. If Britain and America got together…

"So will you help us?"

The alien nodded.

_2:01 A.M._

Britain was still curled up on the couch. He was almost too afraid to go upstairs; just being anywhere near America made him nervous. His eyelids started to droop. Yawning, he only then realized how tired he was. The day _had_ been hectic. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. He decided that it was probably time he just went the hell to bed; it wouldn't be very dignified to fall asleep on the couch. Then he remembered that the window was still open. Thinking it rude to leave it open, he stood up and approached the window.

Suddenly, and without warning, a massive blast of freezing cold water hit him. Britain yelped as he fell backwards, landing on his butt. The Englishman, now drenching wet, confused, and extremely pissed off, looked up at the window to see Tony the alien peering in, holding a garden hose.

"BASTARD!" Britain lunged forward, grabbing the alien's neck through the window. He tried repeatedly to pull the alien into the living room, which only resulted in the alien's head being slammed against the top of the window. The alien, in retaliation, started spraying Britain with the garden hose again. After a while of struggling, the alien managed to hit Britain across the face with the end of the garden house, temporarily stunning him. Tony then took the chance to leap through the window, the garden hose now abandoned, and run up the stairs. Britain leapt to his feet and followed the alien, speeding up the stairs. As soon as Britain got to the top of the stairs, he was tripped by the sneaky alien, sending him flying. Once again finding himself on the floor, Britain tried to grab Tony's leg before he could get away, unsuccessfully.

America poked his head out of his office just in time to see Britain chasing Tony back down the stairs. "Oh, dear God," America muttered to himself. There was a loud thud sound from downstairs.

Upon walking into the living room, America discovered a livid looking Britain, his clothes soaking wet, laying on the floor. Tony seemed to have somehow managed to escape.

Britain yelped when he felt strong arms wrap around his waist and pull him up.

"Hey, uh, Iggy?"

"Oh! America…."

"What happened here?"

"Er…Tony sprayed me with a garden hose and…I chased him…sorry." Britain replied nervously.

America laughed, "Why are you sorry?" he then frowned and said, "I'm the one who should be sorry. All of this crazy shit has been happening all damn day, and this is the second time you've been attacked by Tony. He promised me he wouldn't do it again…but…."

_But he hates me_, Britain thought begrudgingly. He shifted uncomfortably. America still had his arms wrapped around him. "Er, America…"

America laughed nervously, "Oh, yeah, I guess I can let go now." He quickly removed his arms. "Hey, Iggy, you're clothes are soaking wet."

"Wha- oh…" Britain realized it too. After having been sprayed by the garden house, his clothes were dripping.

"You can borrow some of my clothes!"

"Y-your cl-clothes?' Britain stuttered, appearing to be very flustered by this offer.

America didn't seem to notice the Brit's embarrassment, "Yeah, C'mon!" He grabbed the blushing Englishman's arm and started dragging him towards the stairs.

"Uh, wh-where are we going?"

"My bedroom," the American replied cheerfully, still not noticing how uncomfortable Britain seemed. "You can't sleep in those clothes, man, they're drenched!"

_Meanwhile… _

France almost didn't believe he had heard it.

After Tony had attacked Britain with the hose, he had taken his usual creepy position sitting just under the open window. Then he heard it. He silently congratulated himself. He knew it! He had always known it! But, was that really such a big surprise! Of course, he knew. He _was_ the love doctor, after all! Le médecin de l'amour! Of course, hearing _that _completely confirmed to him that he was the best there was! He remembered it clearly:

"_So, America, where are we going?" the Brit asked seductively. _

"_I was thinking my bedroom," the America whispered into his ear, "You're clothes are really wet. I guess I'll just have to take them off." _

"_Oh, Alfred."_

At least, that's how _France_ remembered it.

"MATHIEU! MATHIEU! MAAAATHIEU!"

Canada jumped in surprise. He quickly ran over to where France was, "What is it-"

"AMERIQUE AND ANGLETERRE ARE GOING TO AMERIQUE'S BEDROOM!"

"U-um, o-okay, I-"

"Amerique's room has a balcony, no?"

"Um, y-yes, it does-"

"Well, what are you waiting for? GO!"

"Go where?"

"Ze balcony, of course! I want you to climb up zere and see what zey're doing!"

"What!? You mean spy on them!? I can't do that! That's creepy!"

"But zey are going to Amerique's bedroom! And you know what zat means! HONHONHONHONHON!"

"No! That's voyeurism! And it's my brother!"

"Pleeeeeeeaase, Mathieu!"

"…..fine."

Yay! Merci, mon cher!" France leaned in, kissing the Canadian's cheek.

Canada blushed, "De rien."

_2:15 A.M. _

Canada made his way to the back of the house. Part of the roof hung rather low, so he could probably stand on the porch's railing, grab the edge of the roof, and somehow wiggle his way over to the balcony. It wouldn't be so bad, right? He would just have to look in though the window, and if there seemed to be anything going on, he'd leave. It wasn't like he'd have to sit and watch.

_2:19 P.M._

"Okay, I think some of my smaller t-shirts might fit you," America emerged from the closet, holding a black t-shirt. "Here," he tossed it tossed over to Britain. Britain looked at the t-shirt. It had a picture of a stick figure on it and said in large, colorful letters, "EVERYDAY I'M SHUFFLIN'".

Britain smiled, "Idiot."

"Uh…here," America tossed a pair of black athletic shorts at him.

"Um….thank you….America."

America smiled, "Uh…you probably want some privacy, right?"

"Er, yes."

America laughed nervously, "Um, heh, okay. You can get changed in here, unless you want to get changed in the guest room."

"I-I'll just get changed in the guest room." Britain paused for a second before starting to head towards the door.

"Hey Iggy, wait a second." Britain stopped, turning around.

"Yes?"

America moved closer to him, resting his hand on Britain's shoulder. His finders brushed against the base of the Englishman's neck. Britain shivered at the touch. "Before…when you were drunk, you called me 'Alfie'."

Britain looked embarrassed, "O-oh, did I?" Britain was very aware of the short distance between their faces.

"Yeah, ya did. It was cute." America had a huge grin on his face.

Neither noticed the Canadian picking in through the window of the balcony's door. Canada was perched on the railing, trying to obscure most of his body from view. There didn't seem to be anything going on. He was about to climb down and leave when he noticed America suddenly step closer to Britain. America had put his hand on Britain's shoulder. Britain's face was flushed with embarrassment, and there faces were rather close. Were they finally going to-?

Suddenly, Canada felt his weight shift; he reached out to try to cling to the railing but missed.

"C-cute?" Britain asked.

"Yeah," America said, still smiling broadly, "Really cute." America moved his hand, placing it on the back of Britain's neck.

Britain returned the smile, "Alfred."

"AAAAHHHH!"

The two jumped apart. America's eyes were wide, "What the hell was that?"

Bewildered, Britain answered, "I-I think it came from outside."

"That sort of sounded like…Mattie."

_2:23 A.M. _

It was rather cold outside. Not surprisingly, considering that it was so early in the morning. The sky was dotted with stars, a lovely shade of dark blue.

"Where could he be?" America asked, exasperated. Canada had not been anywhere upstairs _or_ downstairs. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly sent a text to, Britain assumed, Canada. America sighed, leaning against the porch railing, "What the hell has been going on?"

"This night _has_ been rather strange," Britain laughed.

America chuckled, "Heh….yeah."

Britain felt a little nervous, remembering what they had been doing a few minutes ago. He was a little sad, wishing that that moment had not ended. Had he missed his chance? He honestly didn't think he could wait any longer. He couldn't wait for what he had wanted for so long. Just the thought of another century of heartache felt like too much to him. He just wished that America would at least say something. He combed his mind for something to say. _It's just small talk! Get a hold of yourself, Arthur!_

"Uh, it's a bit chilly, isn't it?" Britain said.

America smirked, getting an idea. He wrapped his arms around Britain's waist. "Better?"

Britain blushed furiously, "U-uh, I-I, um. A-America."

America quickly let go, looking crestfallen, "Sorry."

"NO! That's not it," Britain explained, realizing that America got the wrong idea from his reaction, "It's just….America." Britain grabbed America's hand.

"Alfred. I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for b-burning your capital to the ground in 1814, and I'm sorry that I sent supplies to the Confederates during your civil war, and…..I'm just sorry for being a complete prick to you. I know sometimes I act like I hate you, but I don't. The truth is -"

Suddenly, America grabbed the Brit around the waist and pulled him into a deep kiss. A small whine escaped Britain's mouth as their lips moved together harmoniously. He wrapped his arms around his former colony's neck. Britain moaned into the kiss. He felt his heart swell up inside is chest as if it could burst at any moment. He remembered wanting this for so long. Wanting to be loved; for someone to lift him up out of the loneliness that had plagued his heart for so long. He remembered collapsing at America's feet. The rain pounding down on him.

_You were once so great. _

He'd been heartbroken for centuries, and he'd taken it out on America. The truth was he loved everything about the American. He loved his loud laugh, and his stupid video games, and the way he could still look at things with a child-like wonder, and his glasses that he'd dubbed "Texas", and his lock of hair that he referred to as "Nantucket".

After what seemed like a blissful eternity, their lips parted.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, Alfred. I have for so long." Britain smiled, resting his head on America's shoulder, "You just saved me from another century of heartache."

"Of course I did! I'm the hero!"

"Git."

"You're so cute, Artie -"

"ACHOOO!"

What the fuck?...said the narrator.

The two countries on the porch turned their heads towards the bushes.

"ACK! MATHIEU! QUIET OR ZEY WILL 'EAR US!"

"I'm sorry, I –ACHOOO – have allergies."

"Well try not to- oh, shit."

The unobservant Frenchman finally noticed the couple on the porch, staring at him as crouched in the bushes. It wasn't difficult to spot him, wearing one of his usual super-showy outfits. And awkward silence hung in the air for several seconds.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, FROG!? YOU BLOODY GIT! YOU'VE BEEN BEHIND THIS ENTIRE FUCKING THING HAVEN'T YOU!? I'M GOING TO- [It was then that Britain said something that was bad from an educational point of view, so for the sake of the rating it has been redacted]

**THE END!? Well, not quite. There's still going to be another chapter, and there's that Franada fic that I'm planning on doing. So, that might have been a little bit too sappy, but hey; this is my first attempt at a fic with even a little bit of romance. So, until next time, goodbye everyone! ~ **


	7. My Little Pony? And MORE FRANADA?

**Hellooooo and welcome back, everyone! Has anyone else ever imagined the countries saying "everycountry" instead of "everybody" like how on My Little Pony they say "everypony" instead of "everybody"? That was a random thought I had about Hetalia and My Little Pony one day. Another random thought I had about Hetalia and My Little Pony was that the micronations are kinda like the Cutie Mark Crusaders. By the way, sorry if that last chapter seemed kinda rushed. I'm not good at writing fluff :( **

**Anyway, ON WITH THE STORY!~**

_9:31 A.M._

As America slowly pulled himself into consciousness, he suddenly felt the prescence of someone else in his bed. He smiled, remembering that it was just Britain.

The Brit had not yet stirred. America couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. Britain looked undeniably adorable, cuddled up into the American's chest. America ran his fingers through the Englishman's soft, golden hair. "Absolutely adorable," he muttered.

The emerald green eyes slowly opened, "Mmm…darling."

America leaned in, kissing Britain softly, "Good morning, babe."

Britain yawned, "Good mor- hnn…" America cut him off with another kiss. The Brit hummed into the kiss, thoroughly enjoying the American's lips. America pushed himself on top of Britain, and Britain wrapped his arms around the America's neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

"Good morning, git," Britain panted as they parted.

"Ooh, zat was sexy!"

The two bolted upright. A look of aggravation crossed Britain's face, "What are you doing in my bedroom, frog?"

France laughed, "_Your_ bedroom, Angleterre?"

"Er, America's bedroom," Britain blushed as he corrected himself.

America leaned in closer to him, "How about _our_ bedroom? I like the sound of _that_."

Britain just grunted, giving America a small shove, "Now get the hell out, Frenchie."

France smirked, "Fine. I was just seeing 'ow ze 'appy couple was doing!"

"We're fine, now get out! You know, you've got seem real balls staying here this long!" Britain snapped.

"You should be grateful! Without me you wouldn't have admitted zat you love Amerique and you wouldn't be sitting in zat bad with him!"

"I could have admitted it anytime I wanted to!" Britain retorted, "I just….didn't…..yet. Who asked for you help, anyway?"

"Ah, Britain! I am ze love doctor! I know when someone is in dire need of assistance with l'amour!" France said, walking out of the room.

Britain flopped his head back down onto the pillow, "Bloody fuckin' love doctor, my arse."

America laughed, kissing him on the cheek, "I'm going to go make breakfast, okay?"

"Okay. Make sure you put something nasty in France's food."

_9:56 A.M._

Breakfast consisted of pancakes and a lot of awkward stares. Britain was staring malevolently at France, France was smiling (in a way that one would describe as very douche-bag like) back at Britain, America was making googly eyes at Britain, Canada was looking back and forth between the other three, and, although no one else realized it, Tony was sitting in a dark corner of the room wishing death upon them all. Britain was disappointed to see that America _hadn't_ put something nasty in France's food as he had requested.

The night before had also been quite awkward. After quite a bit of yelling and chasing around the back yard, France and Canada sat down with America and Britain and explained what the hell was going on. Britain, to say the least, was pissed off. France, having not had the foresight to get a hotel reservation, stayed in the guest room the Britain was originally supposed to stay in.

After breakfast, Canada made a hasty offer to wash the dishes, glad to have an excuse to get away from the uncomfortable atmosphere.

He hummed to himself quietly as he scrubbed a plate. He tried to take his mind off the other night. He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared of how the other three nations were feeling. Were Britain and America mad at him for all of the trouble he had caused? Britain, especially, would be mad at him, though at the moment he only seemed to be openly angry with France. What was France thinking? He remembered the little talk that he and the Frenchman had. _If you ever need anything –_anything- _I'll help you out. _Friends help out friends a lot; did that make him and France _friends_?

Canada jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, nearly causing him to drop the plate, "Oh, America. Hi."

"Hey, Mattie. You all right, bro?" America asked.

"Huh? Y-yeah, I'm fine." Canada said, looking down at the plate.

"You sure there's not something on your mind?" America asked, nudging him with his elbow.

"Yeah…I'm sure."

America thought for a second about what to say. How should he put this? He didn't know quite how to put it into words? There was a word for that, right? What was that word? Oh, yeah! "Thanks, Mattie."

Canada was surprised to hear this, "Um, your welcome, but…thanks for what?"

America shrugged, "Ah, you know. Thanks for gettin' me and Iggy together. Thanks for cleaning' the dishes. Thanks for….being my brother."

Canada looked at him, "Really?"

"Yeah!" America said, "Of course. I love you, Mattie, you're my brother. And I'm…..grateful for you."

Canada set the dish down and hugged his brother, glad to finally hear those words of thanks, "Thanks for telling me that."

America smiled, "Oh, and Mattie."

"Yeah?"

America pointed to the dish that the Canadian had just set down, "You missed a spot." He patted his brother on the back before exiting the kitchen.

Canada sighed, _It doesn't matter what you do, America is still America. _

At least it was something.

_12:14 P.M. _

"Oh, uh, F-Francis, are you l-leaving?" Canada stuttered.

France, now standing near the front door, turned around, "Oh, Mathieu! Oui, I am."

Canada felt slightly disappointed to hear this. It had been quite a while since he had been able to just spend time with France. Of course, France always invited him to his parties and would sometimes sit next to him during world meetings, but there were always other people. There was always someone else there, like Spain, Prussia, Italy, Seychelles or Monaco. Usually Spain or Prussia. Which was a problem since it was a good idea to steer clear of the Bad Touch Trio.

Canada, mustering up all of the courage that he could, said, "Well…maybe we could h-hang out sometime."

France looked surprised, and somewhat pleased, hearing this proposal from the shy Canadian, "Of course, if zat's what you would like!" He gave Canada a quick hug, "I'll always make time for you, Mathieu!"

Canada looked extremely flustered by the hug, "O-okay, thank you, Francis."

France smiled, "Remember, Mathieu. I meant what I said before; If zere is ever anything zat you need, I'll be zere to 'elp you out." Canada noticed that France's smile looked genuine and kind, as opposed to before when he had told Canada the same thing. Before, France had been smiling, but the smile was…creepy almost. Like a John McCain smile.

"Well…See you later, Francis."

"Of course, Mathieu. And don't worry about Angleterre being mad at you; I will take ze full blame. I don't really mind. It is all for l'amour, oui?" France winked at Canada before walking off.

Canada smiled to himself.

_France is really nice….wait, he doesn't have a car. Is he just going to walk!? Come to think of it, how did he even get here?_

**Ooh, a mystery! Just kidding. Anyway, that concludes our story! But do not fear, citizen! There will be a Franada sequel! And the plot of that sequel will have something to do with a love potion! Also, I just realized something! I use an inappropriate amount of exclamation points! I'll post an author's note when I post the Franada fic. So until then, goodbye everyone!~**


	8. Author's Note and uhhh

**(A/N): Hey everyone! I have posted the Franada fic! It's called "Amortentia". By the way, someone reviewed asking why I mentioned My Little Pony in the Chapter title for Chapter 7. Read the author's note at the beginning, I talked about My Little Pony…that's why. -_- **


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